


We Built this House on Memories

by Panny



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Implied Female Inquisitior/Sera, Implied Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Post-Trespasser, Qun-Loyal Iron Bull
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 00:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13582095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panny/pseuds/Panny
Summary: Dorian's life sticks, stutters on a moment, but the world doesn't stop for a broken heart.





	We Built this House on Memories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [venndaai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/venndaai/gifts).



"I thought it was Inky's, but it's not, is it?" Dorian wondered if it was the crystal that made Sera's voice sound strange or if it was the sudden dizziness in his head. He had to catch himself against the arm of his chair, wanting nothing more than to lower his face between his knees while he tried to breathe, but such displays weren't an option at the moment. "It was _his_."

"That seems likely," he said around a tongue that was several sizes too big and dry all the way through. "Those crystals are rather hard to come by."

"But why would he put it in my bag?"

"He...was fond of you." _He probably knew he wouldn't need it the moment I gave it to him. Even when we lay in bed together and he asked to come with me and I was such a_ fool _to be taken in so easily by  -_

Sera snorted. "Fond? Is that what you call it when someone lies to you for years and then tries to chop your friggin head off the first time some bint with a nice rack of horns says 'please'?"

"By all means, let's recount my mistakes." Bitter, unfair. Dorian had always been good at picking fights. "The South has tavern songs about us, did you know? People do so like it when you prove them right."

"What are you on about?" Dorian could almost picture the little wrinkle above her eyebrows straightening with realization. "I wasn't _blaming_ you."

"Why ever not; surely there's enough blame to go around? Oh, why don't we start with your paramour? The Storm Coast was _such_ a display of loyalty, a true inspiration for her inner circle."

Silence from the other end. Sera didn't often have the restraint for silence.

"I...apologize, Sera." He closed his eyes, breathed deep, and thought about chucking the blasted crystal down a well somewhere. "I shouldn't have said that; it was unworthy of me."

"Too right it was. Doesn't mean you didn't mean it."

"I have held the Inquisitor in high esteem and she has been a dear friend - I would still consider her one. But I cannot pretend that I don't wish she had chosen differently."

"So, you're saying it's her fault? That if Inky had told the Qunari to stuff their alliance, Bull wouldn't have - " Betrayed them. Hurt them. Died.

"I'm saying I can't know. Neither can you. But no, for the record, I don't hold her at fault. The Iron Bull made his choice."

"It wasn't like it was just one choice; that's not how it works." There was a nice sentiment in there somewhere, something along the lines of what he'd once tried to believe - one bad choice didn't make you bad forever as long as you kept trying to make the right one. But the Iron Bull was dead and there was no redemption for that. "Do you...really think he left it for me? Because he cared and stuff even if he believed all that Qun rubbish?"

"I do, as it happens." The worst part was that it felt true.

There was a pause in the conversation, muffled background noise through the crystal. Sera's voice, sounding far away in a way that had nothing to do with Dorian's state. And then: "Do you want me to toss it?"

"Do I what?"

"The crystal - do you want me to get rid? It wasn't your choice to give it to me, right?"

"It wasn't my choice _not_ to give one to you, Sera."

"Sappy, not what I meant. He doesn't get to decide for you just because he meant right by it."

"No, I...I think I'd like you to hold onto it, if you don't mind. Maybe next time we could speak of less dire topics."

Raised voices, words indistinct, impossible to make out. "Listen, gotta go, but be in touch, yeah? Don't like the thought of you cooped up with the baddies and magister arses. You need to talk to real people once in a while." Dorian waited until the crystal went dark to tuck it safely within his robes.

He locked the door and poured himself a glass of wine, but the tears he'd expected never came. He tried to force them, just a little, just in case he could get it out of his system for real this time - let his mind run over the new information and grind it into old pain. His eyes were so dry they ached with it. Even after all this time, the Iron Bull found greater cruelties to visit upon him, to keep him from moving on; how much worse a betrayal was it to care for someone and to hurt them anyway. The hollow emptiness of his gut kept him company until Maevaris's sharp, measured knocking returned his awareness of time.

"Does it ever get better?" It was an unkind thing for him to ask her, to drag her pain out into the light as if it even resembled his. Still, she looked at him with such sympathy.

"Not really," she said.

"Ah, I feared as much."

She took his arm and it wasn't what he wanted, wasn't enough, but it allowed him to muster some phantom of his dignity. "Come," she said, "we have business to attend to. I _do_ hope you keep a stronger vintage on the premises."

"My dear Maevaris, it's like you don't know me at all." The world continued to move. Dorian tried to keep pace.


End file.
